When a Poet Loves
by Glimmer Girl
Summary: Christian waxes poetic on the subject of kissing, love, and life. Carpe Diem!


Title: When a Poet Loves  
  
Author: Glim  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Category: Romance, Vignette  
  
Fandom: Moulin Rouge  
  
Pairing: Christian/Satine  
  
Warnings: None, save massive poetic allusions  
  
Spoilers: None  
  
Summary: Christian waxes poetic. Lots of kissing.  
  
Archive: Any list archives, yes; my page; all others, please ask.  
  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, situations, etc. belong to Baz Luhrman and Fox. I make no money off this effort! :)  
  
Feedback: Sure!  
  
Note: Christian and I seem to like the same poetry. He quotes freely from the following:  
  
Catullus, V; VII (translated by Charles Martin)  
  
Andrew Marvell, 'To His Coy Mistress'  
  
The title comes from Boris Pasternak's poem, 'Darling, It's Frightening'  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
WHEN A POET LOVES  
  
  
  
It was her laughter that made him stop. The bright, breathless sound of her laughter and the way Satine turned her head to avoid his lips. Christian quickly slid his arm around Satine's waist and pulled her closer. His mouth brushed against hers, catching the softness of her breath as she laughed again.  
  
"Don't you like the way I kiss you?" Christian smiled. He caught Satine's lip in his, kissing gently before slipping his tongue into her mouth. Warm and sweet, the kiss lasted long enough for him to feel his lungs start to ache. When he finally pulled away, panting, Christian smiled again. "I love to kiss you. I love the taste of your kisses."  
  
"It's like you can't get enough." Laughter filled Satine's eyes and voice. Her arms around Christian she leaned close. "How much would be enough for you?"  
  
"There could never be enough. As many as the sandgrains in the desert or the as the start in the tacit night might satisfy me."  
  
"You're mad!" Satine's laughter rang out again as Christian gave her a mock serious look. She relented after a moment, her hair brushing his skin as she rested her head in the crook of Christian's neck. "Wonderfully mad." The words were so quiet that if he had not been able to feel her lips move against his skin, he might not have known what Satine said.  
  
They stood before the window in his rooms, the silver light of the moon dripping over her white shoulders. Christian edged his fingers over the curve of Satine's collarbone and feathered them over her neck. He liked her this way â€" the soft, warm late summer air caressing her bare skin, the hint of a smile ever on her lips, her hand stroking his hip gently. A shiver, subtle as the breeze that moved through the night air and stirred the tree leaves, trembled through Christian. He moved closer to Satine without thinking and pressed his lips to her hair. The scent of talcum powder and cologne water filled his senses. The warm scent of Satine, combined with the fresher, cooler scent of evening, flooded over Christian and he sighed quietly.  
  
"This moment ought to last forever," Christian murmured, "kiss me again, darling. Kiss me a hundred, a thousand times! You can call me mad, I don't care. Let's live only for loving."  
  
"Christian! You are mad, my dear, but I love you." An eager kiss drowned out Satine's reply. She reached up to thread her fingers through Christian's hair and pull him closer to her. One kiss, then another, and another drew Christian ever nearer to Satine. They started out playful, but in a few minutes the laughter faded from Satine's eyes, and although bright, it was with passion that they glowed. "I love you, Christian."  
  
"My darling, my beautiful darling."  
  
The night air rushed between their parted bodies as Christian took Satine's hands in his. She truly was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and would have been no matter what she looked like. It was love, both the love he had for her and the love he knew she had for him that made his heart leap and breath catch at the back of his throat. Leading Satine to the bed, Christian kissed her cheek. His breath came faster, but he slowed as he exhaled over the skin of her neck. He kissed here there, too, lightly and with a delicate care. "I could spend my life like this."  
  
"It would take you that long to get your thousands of kisses." Satine sat down slowly on the bed and tipped her head back as Christian sat behind her. The smooth, pale skin of her neck had a muted radiance that begged for adoration. She sighed happily when Christian nibbled gently on her neck, his hand smoothing over her arm to cup her breast.  
  
"We don't have world enough or time," Christian muttered, "or I would spend years and years simply gazing at you, rapt."  
  
The touch of his lips ventured lower and lower until Christian was kissing a path down her shoulder. He paused where the slope of Satine's shoulder met her arm, lingering there to touch his lips to it over and over again. He loved this one spot, how sweet and soft her skin was here. The taste exploded in his mouth when he bit down gently and Satine gasped. She loved it, he knew that, and licked over the small indentations his teeth had left in her skin. The tiny moment of pain, eased by his slow attentions, pleased her as much as the more mild nips and kisses. Satine sighed again, a low and full sound that Christian felt more than heard. He wrapped both his arms around her waist and pressed his chest to her back. The feel of her skin against his made him whimper quietly. Christian buried his face in Satine's hair and whimpered again. She surrounded him, absorbed his breath and voice, even as he held her.  
  
"This moment should last thirty thousand years, for I would love you every second of that time, ever finding new ways to adore you." Christian paused when Satine turned to look at him. "You deserve this state, nor would I love at lower rate." Hushed words, punctuated by quiet kisses, fell from Christian lips.  
  
"You say the strangest things sometimes, Christian." As she turned around once more, Satine led him to lie down on the bed. Her fingers flittered over his chest and encouraged the desire that tingled in his skin. "Did you write all of them?"  
  
"Does it matter?" Christian grasped her hand to kiss the tips of her fingers. "Every poet who has ever fallen in love lives inside my heart, and every mistress inside yours. Does it matter if I praise you, raise you beyond this life in words that are my own or another's? Lover and beloved, we're all the same."  
  
The words came out in a rush of heated passion. All the poetry Christian had ever read seemed to scream to him of his love for Satine. He understood how all the writers of yesterday felt; he knew he felt the same and that in years to come, he would see himself reflected in countless others. Christian smiled slowly. Satine had bent closer to him and the heat of her body warmed his intimately. Before she crushed her body to his, her lips fluttered over Christian's with words more elegant and full of emotion than any poetry he had read or written.  
  
"It doesn't matter. All your words are precious to me. All your words express love."  
  
They were the last words he heard that night and he kept them in his heart and mind as they made love, fell into each other's arms until sleep came. Every word he uttered, every word he read was for her. Even when there was no longer any need for words.  
  
finis 


End file.
